


Blemished.

by Wendihomo



Series: The Mind’s Eye [7]
Category: The Umbrella Academy, The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Body Insecurities, Character Study, Gen, Low Self Esteem, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Pain, Self Analysis, male body insecurities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22241839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wendihomo/pseuds/Wendihomo
Summary: The world was ugly.Luther had thought about it a lot during his time on the moon. Cities were bleak and lifeless, endless stretches of tarmac reaching beyond the eye and giant brooding structures extending up to claw at the sky.Perhaps there were things he could do, he was a hero, right? But why bother? Why bother fixing that?
Relationships: Luther Hargreeves & Dr. Pogo
Series: The Mind’s Eye [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1322390
Kudos: 33





	Blemished.

**Author's Note:**

> A finale for my short mini-series!  
> I had a lot of fun writing it and I enjoyed going into the characters inner thoughts.
> 
> This one explores Luther’s body insecurities and the way he feels silenced. I rarely see anything about men feeling insecure over their bodies so I hope you guys enjoy this!

The world was ugly.  
Luther had thought about it a lot during his time on the moon. Cities were bleak and lifeless, endless stretches of tarmac reaching beyond the eye and giant brooding structures extending up to claw at the sky.  
Perhaps there were things he could do, he was a hero, right? But why bother? Why bother fixing that?

The world was ugly and Luther couldn’t fix that, but he could maybe fix himself.

Luther was ugly.  
He’d mentioned it to Pogo once, hands screwed into tight little fists as he tried desperately to get the words out. Was he doing it for attention? Only ever mentioning it so somebody else could comfort him?  
Luther wasn’t blind. He saw the pity in the way they looked at him, the way they’d drag their gazes away as if they were scared to look at him for too long. Luther wouldn’t say anything, he wouldn’t mention it. Instead the words would hang heavily in the air, pushing down on him until he felt as if he might just disappear into the cracks of the floor.

He would force a smile, but it didn’t convince anyone.  
“I sound like a teenage girl, right?”  
And then he would laugh, as if it didn’t matter, as if his heart didn’t break whenever silence would follow.  
Luther could open his heart, he could beg for something, anything to ease those dark thoughts but he couldn’t change what he was. 

Luther would stare at his reflection for hours sometimes, until the lines began to blur and in a way he almost seemed to look normal and he would smile.  
But eventually he would have to blink, eventually he would start to see himself again and just like that the wound would reopen: scarlet blood staining through the floor and marking every inch of the house as ugly as he felt. 

So Luther let himself fall, knowing that nobody would pick up the pieces. Luther let himself bleed because pain was easier than understanding.  
Luther would force a smile, would drag his broken body from the floor and get dressed, layers and layers separating his skin from the world as if he hoped he could suffocate it and be rid of his suffering.


End file.
